


Some Other Fur

by fengirl88



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, PWP, plushie or furry kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Extraordinary,” Erik says, shaking his head. “What kind of fur is that, anyway?”</p><p>“I think it's bearskin,” Charles says, a shade too casually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Other Fur

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the kink_bingo square "plushie or furry kink". My thanks to ginbitch for her heroic work in betaing this, and to kate_lear for cheering me on.

“Is this one _you_?” Erik asks, raising his eyebrows.

“What are you – Erik, where did you get that?”

Erik grins. “Oh, just found it lying around.”

Charles looks at him sternly. _And you expect me to believe that? Really, Erik..._

“OK,” Erik admits, “Raven gave it to me. She said I might find it – amusing.”

Charles looks at the photograph album and shakes his head wonderingly.

“You and Raven,” he says. “It's just as well you don't get on better. God help the rest of us if you ever decided to team up.”

Erik rolls his eyes. As if _that's_ going to happen.

“You haven't answered my question,” he says. “Is this you on the rug?”

Charles groans inwardly. Should have known Erik would find that one.

“Don't ask me why anyone thought that was a good idea,” he says. “But it seems to have been the fashion in baby pictures.”

“Extraordinary,” Erik says, shaking his head. “What kind of fur is that, anyway?”

“I think it's bearskin,” Charles says, a shade too casually.

Erik looks at him, that searching look that Charles still hasn't got used to.

“You _think_?” he says.

Charles tries not to think about the nursery fireplace with the rug lying in front of it. The warmth of the fire on his skin after his bath and the tickly feeling of the bearskin underneath him. Wriggling against the fur, little shivers of pleasure going through him. An early memory, though nothing like as early as the photograph.

He shifts uneasily, caught off balance by a sudden twist of shame and arousal.

Erik goes on staring at Charles as if he can see right through him.

“I didn't know you had a thing for fur,” Erik teases him. “Do you still have the rug?”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” Charles says. He's aiming for slightly bored, but it comes out as desperate.

“Sure,” Erik says. “Or better yet – ” He clicks his fingers and Charles hears the key turn in the lock.

Erik gets up and pulls Charles into his arms, kissing him and sliding his hands up under Charles's shirt. Charles feels the tug of his belt buckle undoing itself, the descent of his zip. He clutches at Erik, feeling slightly dizzy from the sensation of Erik's hands all over him, his mouth against Charles's neck.

“Erik, what are you –”

“I like this kink of yours,” Erik says, grinning. “It has – possibilities.”

The image in Erik's mind is so clear that it makes Charles gasp: the two of them naked, Charles face down on the bearskin rug with Erik lying on top of him, hands gripping his outstretched hands as Erik tenses and thrusts, his cock sliding between Charles's legs.

“Oh God,” Charles says. How does Erik _know_ that's exactly what he wants?

“How long do you think it would take me to make you come like that?” Erik murmurs in his ear. “Pushing between your thighs, pressing you down into the fur, making you rub yourself against it over and over again?”

 _Not long at all_ , Charles thinks helplessly. He groans.

“A mansion with seventy-two rooms,” Erik says meditatively. “I wonder which one it's in.”

“I've no idea,” he says.

It's not really a lie, he thinks defensively. He hasn't been in the nursery for decades. The rug might not still be there. It might not even be in the house at all.

“Oh well,” Erik says, “I'm sure it'll turn up.”

Charles looks at him suspiciously and sees that Erik is indeed laughing at him.

“You're a hopeless liar, you know,” Erik says. “Would you like to show me the nursery after lunch?”

Charles is still trying to work out whether he's more likely to die from arousal or embarrassment when Hank comes to tell them that lunch is ready.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from an anonymous poem inspired by Elinor Glyn's 1907 novel _Three Weeks_ , in which the exotic heroine seduces the young English hero on a tiger-skin rug:
> 
> Would you like to sin  
> With Elinor Glyn  
> On a tiger skin  
> Or would you prefer  
> To err  
> With her  
> On some other fur?
> 
>  
> 
> There is now a sequel to this fic, [Knickerbocker Glory](http://archiveofourown.org/works/271183).


End file.
